Tinderbox
by Verozexistente
Summary: Post Dark Knight; AU; Seconds before the explosion, arms drapes around her and drags her away into safety. Rachel managed to cheat death but realizes the alternative she faces is way worse than being dead...
1. Chapter 1

**Tinderbox**

0:40

0:39

She tugged at the ropes.

0:38

Pointless. Utterly Pointless.

"Harv, Just in case. I want to tell you something."

"Don't think that Rachel, they're coming for you!"

"I know they are but I don't want them to. I don't want to live without you and I do have an answer for you. And my answer is yes." She said the last words with so much sorrow. How could the meaning of her words be so harmful. She could almost hear his heart break.

Her Harv, her love, screamed on the other line. Presumably to a savior in dark coat. "No! No! Not me, why are you coming for me?"

She closed her eyes. Harv's last words were her death sentence. _At least I will leave this world with style. It will be beautiful. An explosion to lit up the whole city._

Arms wrapped around her. A wet piece of clothing was pressed on her face. Her head started to spin painfully.

**:::**

"Beautiful Rachel." An unfamiliar voice sang. "My beautiful Rachel. Isn't it time to wake up, sleepyhead? You've been sleeping for a long time and you've missed so much."

Fingertips trailed up and down her neck.

Rachel's mind was extremely foggy. She forced her eyes open, to see... nothing. The light was too bright. After a few seconds, when her eyes had adjusted, she started to discover the place. Her back ached and told her she was lying on some sort of metal. She sniffed and her nose was filled with awfully smelling chemicals. The warehouse she remembered from before was definitely gone. She sat up and blood came rushing to her tired muscles.

"Where the hell am I?"

Her voice echoed.

She found only the metal table she was currently lying on was the only spot in the room that was lit up the room. Rachel was in the middle of a circle of light. The rest of the room was pitch black. She realized the room could be endless or a small box.

"Hello?"

Her voice echoed once again.

No box then.

She sensed a presence. Somewhere. Outside her field of vision.

A footstep.

She sat up and spun around, in a desperate attempt to face the attacker. A chill ran down her spine, making her backside cold.

"Who's there?"

"Ipsy wipsy spider!" Sounded a voice.

"Who's that?" Rachel demanded.

"Your soul mate." Came the answer.

"Reveal yourself then!" She said with a bold voice.

Light exploded before her eyes. She stared numerous reflections of herself. The room was not endless, but big enough to fit a small apartment. Rachel turned her head in various directions, only finding multiple reflections of herself.

"Look closer!" Sang the voice.

Rachel's heart stopped.

She stared into his reflection, a man she had never seen before. He looked plain, like the boring, beige neighbor you never really learned the name of. He grinned, revealing yellow teeth. A pair of goggles rested on his greasy hair. He moved forward with squeaking sounds from him his wellington boots and plastic pants. He certainly looked like the stereotypical mass murderer. Rachel turned around to face him. She fell of the table doing so.

Hurried steps across the floor. His face floated above her. His eyes were filled with a strange sort of... worry.

"Darling, did you hurt yourself?"

"Don't darling me!" She shouted back. Her fist collided with his nose, caught him off guard long enough for her to pick herself up. Rachel wasted no time and took the chance to knee him in the face.

He was up on his feet, too early to be human. She saw him chasing after her in the mirror reflections. His arms snaked around her waist. She struggled in his arms, as her own arms were being locked. His left hand grabbed her face.

"Stop fighting, sugar." Blood flooded down, his nose was clearly broken but he showed no slight pain at all. The man buried his face in her neck, sniffing her scent with his destroyed nose. "When you realize... my tinderbox" He murmured into her brown locks. "But not today, sadly."


	2. Chapter 2

Another room.

Another day, she thought. She had no clue how many days, weeks of hours had passed.

Articles of Gotham's newspaper hung on the wall. She squinted her eyes. Multiple articles of the same sort. At least fifty of them were the same. Rachel felt uneasy when she realized the theme of the unusual wallpaper. They all involved her. Throughout her career as a ADA and even a graduation picture hung in the corner.

Despite the wallpaper, the room was a normal looking room. The bed she was laying on was small but comfortable. Her eyes caught two doors. One of them shut and locked, the other one was open and revealed a small bathroom. After a quick visit there, Rachel turned her attention to the only window. To her great surprise was the room located in the city. She recognized this place, one of the shabby outskirts of Gotham. The revelation that she wasn't out alone in the middle of nowhere comforted her. Rachel's heart beat faster when she got her hopes up to actually escape this hell.

The lock of the door behind her rattled.

"I hope I didn't scare you, I've meant to fix this damn lock for a long time." The man with the goggles smiled. He had put a bandage on his broken nose and held a tray filled with breakfast. "I'm sorry I scared you earlier." He apologized with a sincere look on his face.

Rachel's jaw dropped. His behavior had changed drastically.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"Terence Williams, but you know me already! You just hit your head badly." He tilted his head. "Eat something!"

Rachel gulped. "Listen, Terence, you've must have made a mistake... you must have mixed me up with someone else." _That poor soul_.

He put down the tray with too much force. "Sit down and eat! I don't like when you disobey me!" He growled.

Rachel, having dealt with many fragile persons over the year as a ADA in various cases, sat down to not make him more angry than necessary. The easiest way was to play along to not having to be sent home in a black plastic bag.

"Eat!"

She slowly lifted the fork with scrambled eggs and sniffed. Nothing out of the ordinary caught her nose, it smelled amazing. The hunger won.

"That's better, right?"

She nodded with her mouth filled with eggs and scanned the room outside the open door behind him. It was just as light and homey as the room she had woken up in.

"How's your head?"

"Fine."

"Do you start to remember again?" He reached out to caress her arm. She quickly pulled away.

"Ooh, I see." He looked genuinely sad. "You're my tinderbox, Rachel. I've watched you, followed you by articles in the newspaper. What you don't understand is that we are the same. We're so much alike. I approached you and you were better than I could ever imagine. I'm so happy to have you. It's been almost a year, now." He smiled.

"A year?" Rachel choked on her breakfast. Had she been sedated for a year? "What happened?"

"Don't you remember, silly? We met and there were sparkles in the air."

"No, no! I mean the warehouse! The bombs! The joker? Batman? Harvey?"

Terence snorted and ran a hand through his greasy, rat-colored hair. "That clown terrorist is behind bars and that terrorist bat is gone as well."

"What?"

"You must remember this! The clown was stopped and the bat revealed his true identity, the murderer he is! He killed off a few, including Mr Dent. Now he's gone." Terence finished off dramatically.

"Oh!" Was all she could manage. _It can't be true! He's manipulating me._

"Dammit!" Terence's famous temper showed. "I don't want you to think of other men like that!"

Rachel jumped at his sudden outburst. His dramatic changes in mood was alarming. She dealt with a psychopath with way too realistic delusions.

He grabbed the tray. "I warned you! Don't make me mad!" The door shut behind him and the lock rattled once again.


	3. Chapter 3

"Harvey?" She paced across the room. "What about Bruce? How long time have passed? I got to get out of here, now!"

The window.

Since the room had normal furniture, she easily found a substitute battering ram. She rammed a chair in the window. The glass remained intact, the chair broke. Rachel stared at the broken chair and listened after Terence. Nothing was heard. Her eyes found a heavy-looking vase.

Perfect.

The window remained without a scratch. The heavy vase broke into 1000 pieces.

"What kind of military window is that?"

**:::**

Terence repeated his actions. Day out and day in. He came to her in the mornings, giving her breakfast and talking with a sweet voice. Then he suddenly became mad at a small detail. He left and didn't return until hours later, apologizing. He tried to convince her that they shared a life together. Only to scream at her and crashing plates and glasses when she argued against him. Rachel suspected she was dealing with a person with some sort of multiple personality disorder combined with severe stalking tendencies. He knew everything about her, it seemed. She knew nothing of him.

Project 'breaking out through the window' had failed miserably. Rachel had hid the vase shards under the bed and the broken chair inside the bathroom. It was only a matter of time before Terence would find out.

She had to act, fast. Different escape plans ran through her mind. One of them was to simply knock him down, but it seemed a bit too unrealistic. He was nearly two meters tall, not exactly heavy built but clearly stronger than her. The fact that pain didn't seem to affect him made it even worse. One plan was to go along with his delusions, making him think she finally realized he was the man in her dreams, only to escape when he let his guard down. The problem was, how close or rather she would have to get to achieve that goal. The utter thought of that made her shiver.

Her first opening came one day, when Terence as usual brought her breakfast. He left the door open to the rest of the house. Rachel ate her breakfast slowly, bidding her time.

"Uhm, Terence... love." She tried. The sweet phrase felt wrong, like poison in her mouth.

Terence looked like he had won on the lottery. "Yes, Rachel." He said with a hopeful voice.

She wished she could tell him to take a proper bath and not wear the strange plastic clothes that made him sweat heavily. The disgusting odor made her want to vomit.

"It's just that... I happened to notice something earlier in the bathroom. But I don't want to bother you." She glanced at him under her eyelashes.

He quickly answered: "Tell me what's going on!"

"It's nothing special, just that the warm water doesn't work."

"Nothing special? Of course I'm going to fix that! I'm not going to let you freeze to death, Rachie."

She shuddered at his pet name for her.

He turned his back on her, in his eager to help her. In the bathroom, he quickly turned the tap to the warm side and let the water run freely.

Hot as ever.

With a glance over his shoulder at the empty room and a growl, he realized she had fooled him.

In the meantime had Rachel silently jumped off the bed, run down the stairs, through the yellow and cozy living room, to the hall. She would have made out through the door if it wasn't for the ridiculous amount of locks on the front door. She pulled the handle with all the force she could manage. All the locks required different keys. All were locked.

"No! No! No! Please no!" She whispered.

Terence came rushing down the stairs. Like an angry hippo covered in squeaky plastic, he stormed around the corner to find her in the hall.

"Let me out off here!" She howled at him.

The look he gave her was enough to make brave men scared.

"You don't understand!" He shouted back. Grabbed her and shook her like a rag doll. "The world outside is not for you! It's too dangerous out there! You belong here with me." He calmed down a bit and held her close.

"You're delusional!"

"I'm not doing this because I like it, I'm doing this because it's for your best." He responded, sounding like a parent pedagogically talking to his unruly child. He started to drag her up the stairs. The TV in the living room was on. '_Good morning Gotham_' was on. Rachel recognized the news anchor talking casually with a journalist about this month's events.

"_So Patric, this has been a turbulent month in Gotham's history." _

"_Yeah, indeed." _

"_What's the event that probably will go to the history as most spectacular?"_

"_I have to say the death of Harvey Dent is a strong competitor but the fact that Batman turned out to be a cold murderer is on everyone's lips."_

"_The loss of our ADA Rachel Dawes then?"_

"_Big loss, of course. But Batman news does always score higher..."_

Terence threw her into the room, her prison, and locked.

The news she had recently learned were devastating. Her Harvey, was gone, dead and probably buried too.

"I've never got the chance to say goodbye to you, Harvey." She sobbed out loud. The man that had offered her a normal future, a happy future was gone. She had loved him, she really had, even though a dark shadow always was present. The dark shadow, Batman... Bruce. He had came for Harvey's rescue, but apparently failed. She couldn't blame him. The joker always had a trick hidden under his sleeve. He staged this. The joker was to blame. Still, she felt so much anger towards him.

"I hope you're having a good time, Bruce. I hope you're partying really much, buys all the hotels you can find and going on dates with airheaded models. I really hope you're enjoying yourself, while I'm here in my hellhole."

She had come to the realization that this might be the end. There might be no turning back from here. She was stuck here.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dammit, Rachel, think! It's now or never." She had picked up the bad habit of speaking to herself. "I'm not getting out of here soon if I'm not taking action."

Terence left the house a few hours a day. Rachel figured he worked. _If that nut case was able to keep a fucking job? _From 10 o'clock in the morning to 15 o'clock in the afternoon.

Her mind was blank, completely empty. No master plans at all.

She decided to take a shower. She was beginning to smell as bad as Terence. He had given her clothes earlier, but she had refused to wear them. But now when her clothes were so damp in sweat and started to stiffen on her body, it was time to change.

_No one wants to save a smelling damsel in distress_, she figured sarcastically.

She stepped into the shower and the warm water came rushing down on her. For a good couple of ten minutes was her whole world smelling shampoo and soap. The wonderful feeling almost made her forget where she was. Until she opened her eyes again, finding another bathroom than her own. She wondered what had happened to her apartment and her stuff. When she was gone and presumed dead. Had her belongings been shipped to relatives? Been sold? Had there been a funeral? Who attended her funeral? Had Harvey been alive? Had Bruce been there? She cringed at the thought. She stared up in the ceiling. Her heart almost failed to pump her blood for a second.

_Was that an escape route? In the fucking ceiling of the _shower_?_

Rachel turned off the shoulder and dried herself, changed clothes withing seconds and went back to the shower. It reminded her of a hatch on a ship. If she was blessed enough with luck, that would be able to open. She reached up, balanced on her toes, to open.

It did open.

Fug rushed into her nose. She sneezed. Rachel was beyond excited. The possibility of getting out of there made her almost feel like a normal human being again. All she needed now was something to stand on... the chair she had broke was out of question, but the desk wasn't. Rachel couldn't help but cheer when she finally had climbed out off the bathroom. She found herself in the attic.

Small mice ran across her feet, but she wouldn't care about them. The attic was dark but somewhere in front of her, she saw daylight. A window on the roof. Excellent. Now she needed something hard to crash it with.

After a search in the dark she found the best thing imaginable in that moment. A hammer.

"That idiot left a hammer for me."

She shook her head, she was one lucky woman today.

The window was crashed, a chair she found helped her to climb out in the sunlight. Sun, a blue sky and the sound of traffic brought tears to her eyes. Another realization made her tears go from happy to sad. There were no escape route from here. No ladder. No trees to climb on. She was stuck there on that flat roof.

So close but so far away. She was not even being held in prison in a house far out in nowhere. She was still in Gotham. Still this was not a pretty crowded part of Gotham.

One thing she always had hated about Gotham was the small alleys. They always made her feel claustrophobic.

"I'm never going to complain about the alleys, ever again. If I make it." She promised. She looked down. "Does Bruce put up with this every night?" The distance she would have to jump to get to another rooftop grew.

The abandoned warehouse next to her prison house seemed like her only way out of this situation. Just the thought of a building out off Terence reach was amazing, the other fact that it had ladders down to the safe ground was even better. She gulped when she prepared herself. The wind caught her hair. She felt as if she was outside her body, watching the pathetic spectacle, the adrenaline made her hopeful, like she had nailed the jump before she had... Gravity kicked in and she started to fall down, too soon. Instead of her whole body landing on the safe side of roof, only her upper part did. Blood filled her mouth, along with a small hard object, a tooth. Her arms and shoulders ached as she hung off the flat roof of the warehouse.

_Now or never._

Rachel had no idea of how she managed to pull up her own weight and onto the safe roof. She pondered on the effort as she caught her breath. Before she headed for the ladder, she kissed the roof.

**:::**

She had been jogging for a quite few blocks now and started to meet more people. Normal people. Now apparently it was she who was the strange person. They stared at her, turned around and followed her until she disappeared behind a corner.

_I must look horrible._

She caught her mirror reflection in a shopping window. She did look bad, blood around her mouth, her face was flustered and her clothes mismatching and dirty. Rachel checked if her wallet still was in her pocket. Good thing she had remembered to take it with her. She slipped into a second hand shop and grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Madam. May I ask what you're doing?" The shop assistant asked with a sour voice.

"I want to buy these and I would like to wear them now." Rachel explained and ripped off the price tags.

"I want to remind you that you have no permission to remove the price tags!"

"And I want to remind you that you're here to sell and I'm here to buy. You see the deal? I give you money and I get these clothes and I would love to wear them right away." Rachel shoved the money in her hands and asked; "Where's the changing room?"

**:::**

Rachel stood outside her apartment. The door didn't have her name on it anymore. She pulled her keys out and tried to open.

It swung open. As always.

The empty apartment strangely reminded her of a tomb. Everything, all her belongings were gone. All pictures and paintings on her walls. Her furniture. Her mere presence and soul in the apartment.

Her stomach started to growl. After checking the kitchen she found even her fridge was gone.

**:::**

The burger tasted... well like a sponge. The strange feeling of chewing without a tooth was something she hadn't experienced since childhood. Knowing this time, there wouldn't be a replacement tooth, she started to feel anxiety. Since she was presumed dead, she doubted she could use her job's medical health care.

The lunch hour was over. The burger restaurant was only occupied by a few elder people and kids that just had finished their school day. They had moved on their normal lives, she envied them their dull lives. At least they were safe from heartbreak.

Heartbreak. Harvey...

The emotions stirred up tears in her eyes. But crying at the local, shabby burger restaurant wasn't a good idea.

A homeless man, at least he dressed like one, sat down in front of her.

"Hello beautiful." He leered at her.

She stuffed the last of the burger into her mouth.

"Mind if I take a few fries?"

He needed them, she figured and pushed the fries over to him. "Take the rest. I'm done."

She was about to stand up and leave when his arms shot out and he grabbed her hand. "Missy, you do look like someone I've seen before..." He tilted his head. "Fuck! You're that dead woman from the news! What's her name again... Dawes right?"

"I'm afraid you've mixed me up with someone else." She pulled her hand away.

"No, Missy, my eyesight is clear as daylight. You're the dead lady."

"Excuse me." Rachel rushed out of the burger restaurant while hearing the homeless man shouting to the others about how Rachel Dawes had come to life.

"I got to get out of here!" She mumbled to herself. For the first time she started to recognize people staring at her in the streets. Rachel tried to convince herself it only was her imagination. "I'm a dead woman in a city that doesn't know me." She repeatedly said to herself.

The night grew darker. She started to wonder where she would sleep since her apartment was empty. A newspaper was lying on the sidewalk, she picked it up and scanned the front page.

**No Batman appearance since the Bat rampage in Gotham!**

**The Bat's legacy on page 38**

Todays news seemed like yesterday's news. Rachel pondered on the fact that Bruce apparently had stopped being Batman, was he really responsible for those innocent lives? She supposed he was the only one who could ever tell her the whole story.

**:::**

"I would like to buy a ticket." She said with a quiet voice and desperately hoped the bus driver didn't recognize her like the homeless did.

He looked too tired to care whether she was the queen of England or not. "Where to?"

She mumbled a bus stop a few km from Wayne Manor, payed and took a seat. Throughout the whole trip, she slumbered. The warmth in the bus was comforting. She hated to leave the comfort and wished the bus ride had lasted longer. When she begun her walk towards the manor, it started to rain. Rachel knew the walk to the manor very well, she had walked there two times a day, five days in the week, for a few weeks before her mother had left her occupation and forced Rachel to change school.

It was pouring when she reached the gates and she was soaked.

"Wish I had a jacket!"

**:::**

Alfred stood in the kitchen and did the dishes. The dishes after his own dinner, since Master Wayne wouldn't eat. The time after the joker had been stopped was chaotic. Master Wayne had returned, put the cape away and locked himself in his room. What he was doing inside there was beyond Alfred, but he guessed Bruce performed some sort of workout, doing push ups judged by the grunts and occasional sobs.

A peeping noise caught his attention. Someone had opened the Wayne Gate, someone who knew the code. Whoever that would be?

Alfred quickly transported himself to be closest monitor of the surveillance system. To his surprise wasn't the visitor going by car. Instead he saw a walking figure.

"In the pouring rain?" He exclaimed.

Alfred continued to watch the figure's walk towards the great entrance. From all he could make out was a lonely woman.

It knocked on the entrance.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Alfred?"

He thought his eyes were fooling him. The soaked woman only resembled Rachel Dawes looks. It couldn't be her, she was dead! But when she spoke, it was Rachel's voice. Alfred grabbed his chest as his heart jumped painfully.

"Oh, what's going on Alfred? Alfred? You should sit down." She led him to a chair in the hall. "Do you need a glass of water?"

"I should be the one asking that." The butler retorted. "Forgive me for not-"

"Please, Alfred. Stop!" She rolled her eyes. "How's your heart?"

"It's fine now."

"You sure?"

"Of course! I wouldn't want to miss this!"

**:::**

"Tell me, Rachel, how did you manage to survive?"

"I was... well saved." She stared down in her glass. "It turned out my so called savior was a psychopath stalker... I was drugged and held in a room with unbreakable windows. He came to me twice a day and always tried to convince me that we were romantically involved. It was so strange, Alfred, this man knew everything about me. He had articles about me hanging on the wall and knew bits of my past."

"Sounds terrible, Miss Dawes."

"I tried to flee twice, but those attempts failed miserably. It wasn't until this day, when I found an escape route through the bathroom." She sighed. "I've ran across roofs and jumped between buildings today. The kind of things Bruce does nightly." She joked.

"Oh dear lord!" Alfred exclaimed when he saw she missed a tooth. "Is that from today?"

She nodded and showed a few bruises on her arms. "Those are from the roof jumping. Turns out I'm quite bad at judging distances."

"You have to tell us the whole story!"

"Us? Is Bruce here?" She asked. "I though he was out-"

"Pardon me for not bringing him here earlier. I was so caught up in your story and your utter appearance, forgive me, but you're supposed to be dead. Miss Dawes, I hope you are warm now."

"I am." She smiled. Her soaked clothes were replaced with dry ones. The exact clothes she had brought in her go-bag when she had stayed with Bruce because his place was the safest in Gotham. Before the Joker was put behind bars. Before this madness. Before Harvey died... She wondered why exactly Bruce had kept her clothes. Was he secretly hoping she would turn up on his doorsteps asking for her go-bag?

"I'm going to fetch him... on second thought, I think I must bring you with me. He's never going to believe me otherwise."

**:::**

"Master Wayne?" Alfred knocked on the door.

No response.

"Is he not there?"

"Oh, he is. He's just choosing to not answer."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Master Wayne. I'm going to tell you one thing, something amazing and you will most likely not believe it... Rachel is here."

Still no response.

"Is the door locked?" Rachel asked with a loud voice. She grinned when they heard fast footsteps coming for the door.

The door swung open with a _bang!_ Bruce revealed himself. Rachel had never seen him so shocked and unruly. Gone was the Armani suit and perfect hair, replaced with a simple tee and sweat pants. He had dark circles under his eyes, messy hair and a growing beard.

"Are you kidding with me, Alfred?" He turned to the butler. "You brought a woman looking exactly like _her_, dressed her in _her_ clothes to try to get me out of the room?"

"I thought you were out buying restaurants and hotels!" Rachel interjected.

When the voice and the face came together. All pieces fit together.

He reached out to touch her. "Am I dreaming?"

"Not more than me."

All went fast. He pulled her into a tight embrace. Rachel hissed in pain as his arms locked around her torso. She rested her head on his shoulder and felt something wet on her own. She hadn't seen him cry since his parents died.

**:::**

Bruce refused to remove the arm around her shoulders. As if she was going to disappear if he didn't pull her close.

She told both men her story of Terence and her breakout.

Bruce couldn't keep himself from grinning when she told them the story of the roof jump but immediately went serious when she told him about the missing tooth.

"Yeah, I've got it in my pant's pocket. The one drying right now. I can bring it if you like!"

"No, no. I believe you." He stared at the gap in her teeth. "Did you hurt yourself more?"

"Well, a few bruises here and there." She shrugged.

"Don't shrug like it's nothing!" Bruce snapped. He looked deep into her eyes.

Rachel started to grow a bit uncomfortable with his intense stare, it was exactly like Harvey used to look at her, with comforting eyes, care. She looked away. "But it's nothing."

"You sure?" He gently squeezed her left side of her ribcage.

She hissed in pain.

Bruce smirked. "I noticed something when I hugged you earlier." He stood up and reached out a hand. "We've got to check you up on that."

"How?" She demanded to know, ignoring his outstretched hand. "Do you have a x-ray?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"You're unbelievable!"

"Rachel." He stared into her eyes with the intense stare again. "It's for your own best. In case you've broken something."

She snorted, but willingly stood up, after she pushed his hand away. "I don't need your help!"

Bruce's smirk grew wider. He called over his shoulder; "Alfred, do you have dinner ready when we're returning?"

"Yes, Master Wayne."

His arm snaked around her waist once again.

**:::**

"You're just going to lie down here."

"Like this?"

"Yes."

"Wait for it..."

**:::**

"By the looks of it, you have no broken ribs. It's just a deep bruise."

"Phew! Now I'm just going to go to the dentist to get this fixed." She mentioned towards the gap in her row of teeth.

"Or don't. It actually de-ages you. You look like a ten year old again." He chuckled.

"You're horrible!" She exclaimed with a smirk and playfully slapped him on the shoulder. He smirked and both of them had a hard time controlling their laughs.

As the laughter died. She started to take a good look at the room they where in. "This place is amazing. You have everything here."

"Enough to provide for a minor invasion." Bruce said.

The rows of strange weapons and ammo were the most interesting part. Although, it was forgotten when she spotted 'the tumbler', commonly known as the batmobile.

"Is that really the-?"

"Tumbler, yes."

She almost ran towards it. "I've never got such a close look on it!"

"It has an acceleration on 0-60 in 5.6 seconds." Bruce said and proudly stroked the tumbler. "Got it rebuilt. I missed it."

"Wow!" She turned around to see the batsuit, illuminated behind glass. "You're keeping it like a museum's artifact." She noted. "Have you really hung up the cape forever, or just for a while?" She asked.

"The Batman is a symbol..." He started. "And that symbol was destroyed."

"Because of the deaths of the innocents?" She questioned and brought out her lawyer voice. "Bruce, did you-?"

He shook his head. "No." He picked his words carefully. "Not Harvey, but what he became, did that."

"You have to tell me the whole story!"

And so he did.


	6. Chapter 6

The breakfast was silent. Rachel's eyes were slightly puffy and red. Harvey's sad destiny had been hard on her. She tried hard to concentrate on her bowl of cereals but her mind wandered. She was brought back to reality on a regular cycle of minutes from the sound of newspaper as Bruce turned page.

Rachel gazed discreetly at him and scanned his features. His forehead showed slight wrinkles as he practically buried himself in the Economic's pages.

He turned page again.

Rachel smiled lightly. This was something she could live with. The comforting peacefulness, the silence in the kitchen. His presence.

Still, when she said yes to Harvey, she knew these types of moments with Bruce never would happen. But they did with Harvey. He would have made her happy. And he did make her happy. Rachel wished, not for herself but for Harvey's sake, she wouldn't have had the dark shadow in the back of her mind.

She wondered where the butler was, she hadn't seen him at all this morning. "Where's Alfred?"

"At the market."

"Hm."

He finished his glass of water and put the dishes away in the sink. When he returned, he sat down beside her.

A shiver ran down her spine when his tucked away a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"You haven't slept well."

That statement was true.

"Trouble to sleep."

"Nightmares?"

"I can't fall asleep to begin with."

His fingers continued to run through her hair.

"Did you sleep well then?"

"Better than you apparently."

"Good for you."

"Hm."

"Bruce wha-"

His lips pressed on hers. She was momentarily stunned. It was over just as fast as it had started. Bruce had started to pull away when she swung her arms around his neck and drew him closer again. He happily accepted and kissed back with much more passion. This was it. That thing she had missed. Glowing passion.

The moment was ruined by Harvey's face coming to her mind. She pulled away and explained her sudden pull away as breathlessness. A quite bad excuse, she even realized that.

**:::**

"I can't believe you bought my apartment and all inside!"

"But it did come in handy, admit that." Bruce responded, smiling into the back of her head as she hurried down the streets towards her home.

She searched through her bag and found the paperwork she was looking for. Rachel turned around quickly, almost making Bruce stumble over her. She pushed the papers into his chest, with a little more force than necessary.

"What's that?"

"Your copy on the contract of sale." She clarified.

"I told you I don't want your money." He answered. "I could have happily given the apartment back to you."

"No." She shook her head. "I want to be in charge of my own home!"

"I respect you for that but-." He said, not sounding pleased at all.

"If it makes you feel better, you sold it for almost nothing. It was a very bad affair." She chuckled. Rachel noticed the truck with her belongings had appeared outside her place. The workmen went back and forth carrying furniture and boxes.

"I have to check on this." She mumbled. "To make sure they're not going to break anything."

"I wouldn't care if I was you. Your belongings are not that much worth."

"Thank you for that one and goodbye!" She waved him off, his hand gripped hers.

"Did I miss something?" She wondered.

His smile grew wider. "Goodbye." Bruce placed a kiss on her cheek.

A flash went off.

She pulled away looking after the source. Of course, a paparazzi photographer.

"The news of your resurrection will soon be heard all over Gotham."

**:::**

"Yeah, we left that flower pot on the floor as it was when we got here. It got a note on it so I figured you wanted it that way."

"What flower pot? Last time I was here the apartment was empty."

"The big flower on the floor in the living room."

The workers left after a stressed day and Rachel was left alone in her apartment. She decided to investigate the strange flower, she assumed it was some idiotic trick by Bruce.

The flowers were nearly dying. They had been standing in her apartment for a while and that ruled out Bruce. Rachel flipped open the note and gasped.

_My dear, tinderbox. I will sadly inform you that you're not longer an object of my interest as I found a new love. I will never forget you. _

_Kisses T._

"I will never forget you" - that line sounded like a full scale threat to her.

"I got to call the locksmith!"

**:::**

"I never expected this. Never in my life. I've never seen anything like this before!"

"I understand that this is crazy." Rachel mumbled.

Gordon, the only honest police in Gotham, reliable Gordon stared at her with a stunned expression. "Does anyone know?"

"Not the public yet, but two friends knows... still I'm sure it will be everywhere in the media soon since I was caught by the paparazzi earlier."

"It's better if you go public yourself. What do you have to loose? The joker is behind bars and I honestly believe this could be perfect for Gotham. They need a hero."

"I don't consider myself a hero."

Gordon's cheeks flushed. "What about practical matters? Your home? Your job as a ADA?"

"My apartment is already fixed. The position as an ADA is probably already filled... or?" Hope was raised in her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh."

"His name is Ben Smith. He's damn good and experienced. I wouldn't want to replace him, it wouldn't be fair."

"Of course."

Gordon leaned in. "The position as DA is still unoccupied. They haven't been able to find someone suitable yet. You might be lucky."

"Who's in for DA now? They've got to have someone they consider!"

"No one!"

"How's that possible?"

"Miss Dawes, Gotham is falling apart. The city is bruised after the joker's rampage and now when Batman is gone... everything we worked for is tearing apart!" He hid his face in his hands. "This city is going down."

"Do you- do you think I have a chance to become the DA if I apply?"

"I hope so. Now when Harvey Dent is gone, we need someone like you. People trust you."

**:::**

The flashlights almost made her blind. Rachel blinked several times.

The officials in Gotham told the news of Gotham's new DA. Rachel stepped in front of the microphone and stuttered her 'official version' of her survival, stating she had been saved before the explosion but the Shockwave had been enough to put her into a coma. The story seemed a bit too unbelievable but the officials had insisted she wouldn't tell the real story. The last thing Gotham needed was fear of a psychopath. Instead was a team of policemen going to solve this case. Terence was going to be brought to justice.

"Any questions?"

A reported elbowed her way through the crowd. "Miss Dawes, how would you describe your relationship with Mr Bruce Wayne? You appeared on pictures with him earlier today and I want you comment!"

She rolled her eyes. "No comment!"

"Are you sure? There's been rumors that-"

"If it's a rumor, it's probably fake!" Rachel bit back. "End of questions!"

In the meantime were Bruce and Alfred watching the press conference in silence. It wasn't until she stepped forward and began telling the story of her survival and time away from the spotlight, Bruce reacted.

"Rachel's handling the media well. She's not going public about that psycho."

"Of course is Miss Dawes lying about that particular detail. It would stir up whole Gotham if she didn't. Lets hope they catch the bastard before he hurts someone else or... her. Speaking of that, do you agree with me when I point out the fact that the cape might need some fresh air once in a while?"

"Sound reasonable."


	7. Chapter 7

"It seems a little bit too convenient that he happen to give up on me after I escaped..." Rachel paced on the floor of the bullpen like an aggressive tiger. "...people like him don't give up so easily on their obsession."

"Maybe he actually found a better object that's easier to reach?" Ben Smith, the ADA, rolled his eyes when he thought Rachel wouldn't notice. He wasn't exactly happy with Rachel being able to jump straight into the position as DA.

"It might be a way of creating an illusion of safe security." The young detective Jacobs said. She was an afro American woman with high ambitions. She fiddled with the paperwork and hissed as she got a paper-cut from doing so.

Ben Smith leered at Rachel. "So, I just ran his name through the data base of Gotham's citizens. Terence Williams does not exist!"

"He might be from out of town." Detective Jacobs tried to meddle between the furious Ben Smith and Rachel.

"But he kept me in a house, here in Gotham!"

"It could have been a random abandoned house!"

"I know where I was trapped! I climbed out through his roof and jumped across buildings, _here_ in Gotham."

Ben Smith snorted.

Rachel ignored him. "I suggest we put out a search team on that exact location. I want the house under surveillance, now!"

Ben leaned towards her and whispered with an angry voice: "Listen, Miss Dawes, you are new to this group!"

"I'm the DA!"

"Miss Dawes, we work as a team here. I suggest you to blend in and just observe. We know what we're doing. We don't need you to stir up trouble. Unless you want the whole group and therefore the majority of votes against you. You should lay low."

"I hold the position as the DA!"

"One woman or man is equal to one vote. We're a democratic team, titles and positions does not matter."

Rachel felt defeated. The top team included up to 15 people with one vote each, she currently had 14 votes against her. But she decided to play.

"Of course we're democratic, let's vote then! How many agrees with me to search for Terence?"

"And how many agrees with me to continue to stop corruption in Gotham. The real threat against our beloved city!"

"Raise your hand for me." Rachel said with a clear confident tone.

Immediately shot Detective Jacobs' hand up in the air. Followed by no one.

Ben smirked. "Raise your hands for my request."

The rest of the team raised their hands for him.

"Being a DA does not help you unless you have the majority with you!"

Rachel had never felt that a dictatorship could be so interesting.

**:::**

However, changed plans. Her first case came the second day of her returned career. Rachel had just arrived at the office when she was called to the bullpen.

"Miss Dawes! Miss Dawes, we have a call for you!"

_Take it easy, there's no fire!_ "What line?" Rachel asked and rolled her eyes. She was about to pick up her office phone when the policeman shook his head. "You need to take the phone in the bullpen!"

Rachel's pulse rose.

"Hurry!"

She practically ran after him into the bullpen. The phone in the middle of the bullpen was wired to the police's tracking system, a few technicians were frantically trying to track the call.

"We need at least two minutes more!" The technician said, his forehead was filled with pearls of sweat.

Rachel quickly caught the serious tone in the room and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi." A soft voice answered. "Is it Rachel Dawes I'm speaking to?"

"Yes. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"My name's Sarah."

"Hello Sarah, what's the matter?"

"You got to help me, please." Sarah immediately went straight to her matter. "I've been trapped by a maniac, for approximately three days now. Do something, he might be back anytime."

"Do you know the name of your abductor?"

"He calls himself Terence."

Rachel's heart jumped. She sent a spiteful look at Ben Smith. He stared back with a sour face.

"Can you describe Terence?"

"He's tall... very tall. I would guess two meters."

Rachel nodded and mouthed _"Like my Terence!"_

"He wears plastic clothes and wellingtons!"

Rachel became even more sure that the abductor was Terence.

"His hair is shaved."

Rachel's jaw dropped but caught her composure. "How did you know my name? How did you know how to reach me?"

"He's got your face and name all over the walls in the room he's keeping me in. There are news articles everywhere and photos of you in the ceiling! He even calls me Rachel."

"How did you get the phone you're talking on?"

"He left his jacket in my room after a emotional breakdown. Everything I'm saying is off putting to him. He must have forgotten that his cell was in the pocket. I dialed 911 and explained to them I was trapped, then I asked for you."

"It's alright. I'm on a team that's going to help you. You hear me, Sarah?"

"Yes, I do. Please hurry!"

Her voice drowned in a series of beeping sounds. Then her call disconnected.

Rachel turned to the technician, holding the dead phone. "What happened?"

He wrinkled his nose slightly, a stress symptom. "The battery in her cell ran out. But that's not the problem right now, it's the fact that we can't pin her location!"

"What?"

"She's jumping back and fourth all over Gotham. First she's in the wealthier parts then in the Narrows, then she's heading south and back to north!" He turned the screen so everyone could see. A dot jumped all over the map of Gotham.

"How's that possible?" Ben Smith interrupted.

"I don't know, a virus maybe? We pin the location by cell towers, but this virus seems to activate every possible cell tower in Gotham in a distinctive pattern."

"Get the cell companies on the phone!" Ben barked at the stressed technician. "I want them to do a virus search on their-"

"We don't have to!" Rachel barked back at him. "I know exactly where she is! She described the room exactly as I remembered. She even described Terence."

"We have to do this properly!"

"How long will it take to pin her location by cell towers after the companies done a virus search?"

"It's impossible to tell? Ten minutes up to ten days!"

"We don't have that kind of time, Ben! Who's with me?" Rachel declared.

13 hand were raised into the air. The power of democracy.

**:::**

The SWAT team broke into the house. Rachel, Jacobs and Ben Smith stood outside the house waiting.

"He sure sounds paranoid, this fella." Ben noted. "How many locks are there on his door? Ten?"

Rachel remained silent and tried to not think about her recent events in this particular house. She had a terrible feeling in her gut when she thought about Sarah, the person being trapped there right now.

"Clear!" The SWAT team erupted from the house. "Empty, no one's there!"

"What?!" Rachel exclaimed. She ran into the house with Ben Smith and Jacobs after her. She located the stairs to the second floor easily from her recent memory and ran into the room she had been trapped in. It was empty. She heard Ben talking on the phone; "What do we know about her? Her name's Sarah, I don't have a surname on her... well she used the metric system, she might be European, however no trace of accent."

"Fucking hell!" Jacobs stared into the room with round eyes. "There's pictures of you everywhere, Dawes! Is this the place where you were trapped?" Her voice went falsetto.

Rachel ignored her. A new idea had popped into her head. What if Sarah had discovered the hatch in the ceiling? "Follow me!"

"What are you doing?" Jacobs asked as Rachel went into the bathroom and into the shower cabin.

"It's a hatch here."

"What?"

"Hush!"

"Don't _'sh_ me!"

"Let me do my fucking job and stop asking so many questions then!" Rachel knew damn well that Terence already knew about her escape route but hoped Sarah had been able to go the same way as herself. The hatch didn't open as easily it had done before. Rachel pulled harder.

"What exactly are you trying to achieve?"

"This is where I-"

"Dawes, Jacobs, you might want to see this." Ben stuck his head into the bathroom. "We've got a body and it ain't pretty."

"A body?" Rachel asked dumbstruck. "Where?"

"It was hanging under the Wayne subway. But a train came and ran over the rope, it was tied around the rails, and the body fell down... the scene ain't pretty so to speak. The media discovered it before we did. Prepare yourself for a speech." He added.

**:::**

"What do you got on her?"

"Sarah Johanson, age 25, grew up in both Sweden and the States. I guess that's why she used the metric system. Studied to become a journalist. She's got two sisters. "

"The more you know about a victim, the more personal it gets. She was a person made of flesh and blood. With a family. Friends. Dreams."

_Just like Harvey._

**:::**

"The people of Gotham are scared and demands answers!" The angry journalist woman barked at Rachel as she followed her from the car. "As the DA you're required to answer, it's your responsibility!"

"It's my responsibility to put _the responsible_ of the murder behind bars. Not to ruin an investigation."

The journalist's lipstick was smeared all over her mouth and she had a shabby appearance, the clothes she wore didn't seem to be washed for at least a week. "Come on!" The even more aggressive female journalist demanded. "You know how it works. Give us something to work on! Something! The readers want blood and gruesome details, you should know that."

"Yeah, and people want their free time alone." Rachel grabbed the door handle to her flat.

"Please, I'm going to loose my job!" The journalist tried.

"No comment."

**:::**

She drew a deep breath of relief when she entered her apartment. Even though the hall was completely pitch dark, she realized she wasn't alone. An unfamiliar jacket on her coat rack told her someone was there. Who? She drew her taser from her pocket.

The hall exploded in lights. Rachel found herself pointing the taser at Bruce.

"Not the first time you're pointing that thing at me." He chuckled.

"We're making a habit out of it." She agreed.

"So, how did you get in here?"

"My spare key." He held up a key.

She snatched it from him. "Not next time!"

"Next time?" He sounded hopeful. "Are you already planning my next break in?" Bruce followed her into her kitchen where she took a glass of water.

"I meant there's not going to be a next time, Bruce." She sighed. "I deal with enough shit on the job." She pulled out a micro dinner from the fridge and threw it into the micro.

Bruce had gone silent behind her.

"Why so silent? You wouldn't stop talking a minute ago?"

"_I deal with enough shit on the job."_ He echoed with an empty voice. Bruce scanned her. _I didn't know you spoke like that. _

"I'm sorry I sounded harsh, but I was overrun by a crazy journalist just before I got here." Rachel explained. "I'm sorry if I was being rude."

The apology was accepted.

"Do you want some?" She offered the now hot food.

"Nah, just ate."

"Alrighty then." She sang, using the teasing-voice Bruce knew too well. "Only goose liver and oysters are good enough for Mr Wayne." Rachel ran out of the kitchen before he could answer. With a chuckle she turned on the TV.

He seated himself next to her.

"I guess you're only used to fancy dinners with white tablecloths-"

"Stop, Rachel." He cringed.

"-silver cutlery and at least two models at your side! Don't forget an entire Russian Ballet..."

He blushed. "That's actually quite embarrassing since I wanted to impress-"

"Or ruin my date?" She chewed her food and finished her bowl quickly. "I know! You need an orchestra as well to dine properly! Or else you will loose your appetite."

"You've got food on your chin." He pointed out.

This time she blushed.

"Let me." He pulled out a textile handkerchief out of his pocket.

"Don't. It will just ruin the handkerchief." She tried.

"I've got too many anyway. Besides only the best deserves the best." He wiped off the tomato sauce.

That comment made her blush even more.

"I don't know what's more embarrassing, having food in my face or your ridiculous comment?"

He chuckled.

Rachel noted how close he had gotten. He leaned in further. She couldn't help herself but doing the same. Still it felt wrong, kissing someone else so soon after Harvey's death. But _he_ wasn't just _someone_. Her heart was selfish and so was her brain in this moment. To respond to that kiss was the only thing that seemed important right now. To hell with all the guilty feelings, this night she only wanted to melt into his arms. And it sure was wonderful.

Until she woke up next day, beside him, with a bitter taste in her mouth. A note from her past had interrupted her momentarily bliss. The note she had left Alfred, not long before the explosion, was written in a moment in anger, where she told him she would have chosen Harvey over him.

_And yet I'm here. Oh the irony._

Judging by the fact that Bruce was ever so happy to see her again after her 'death', he hadn't read it. Rachel wondered where Alfred kept the note. It wasn't fair if Bruce remained unknowing. He had the right to know what decisions she made just before the explosion. She had to deal with it.

It was chilly in the apartment. Rachel pulled the blanket closer around her.

Fingertips traced her back.

"You're up."

"Not really, I just woke up."

"Yeah, but sitting up-up." Bruce wrapped his arms around Rachel from behind.

It was bad timing to bring the note up, Rachel realized. But she was damn sure he wouldn't snuggle into her back if he knew what she had written him. The guilt rose up in her chest as he played with her hair.

Rachel chickened out pathetically. It didn't seem right to destroy his little bliss when he didn't even wear his pants. "You came here using the spare key, right?"

"Yeah."

"Which reminded me, I have to call the locksmith today."

She could almost hear him roll his eyes behind her back.

"You've already taken my spare key, don't you think it's going way too far to change the locks? Besides, Batman climbs wall very well."

She ignored the comment about his alter ego."No, but I don't want another unplanned visit, from anyone."

"Why, do you have reasons to believe someone will break in?"

Was she going to tell him about the note from Terence? Or should she give him another story? _No, don't throw the batman cape on him right before you tell him you turned him down!_ The little irritating voice in her head that believed that he already had the cape on, was turned down. "I got the tip from my job to change the lock and install a second, because of my new position... paparazzi and such."

"Did you read the papers?"

"No, did I miss something."

"You're on the front page."

She moaned in anger.

"Got to get up now. I have a job to go to." She mumbled and walked out of the room, taking random clothes with her.

_Shit!_

Rachel stared into her reflection while she brushed her teeth. _"What the hell am I supposed to do now? Tell him straight away? Or wait? No, that would be weird."_

"_Why didn't you tell me earlier, Rachel! I'm so depressed now when I don't have batman anymore and Wayne Enterprises just went bankrupt! My parents are dead, for gods sake! I even took the blame for your boyfriends deeds, is that not enough? Now I'm left with nothing except for my good looks!"_ Overreaction, but still. She knew how he would react.

"You rich bastard!"

"You said something?" Bruce leaned against the door frame with a smug smile.

"Yeah, 'you sick bastard'."

"What have I done now?"

"Not you, him, the murderer." She threw today's paper at him. "The real murderer, not the papers made up murderer."

"Do you read the papers in your bathroom?" He furrowed his brows and scanned the front page.

**Gotham faces new murderer!**

**European student _dead_!**

**Expert: It might be batman!**

"Occasionally." She dropped the subject and moved into the kitchen for breakfast. _Maybe I should put him into food coma before I drop the bomb? __He would be to full of food to notice... _"Do you want some breakfast? Sadly, I don't serve lobster and Russian caviar. You will have to deal with cereal and milk."

"Outrageous." He agreed playfully.

"Help yourself."

They ate in silence. Rachel's fingers were shaking and coldness ran down her spine and out in her fingers. She had begun sweating. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"I have something to tell you."

"What?"

She went straight to the subject. "I wrote a note, before I- Before the explosion. I gave it to Alfred, for him to give it to you."

He stared at her with a stern look in his eyes, she could see he barely breathed.

"Where I wrote that I would choose-" She stopped, it was so hard to tell him the rest. "You deserve to know, Bruce, that you weren't my-"

"First choice?"

"No, no! You were my first choice, at first." What a ridiculous way of putting it, like a thirteen year old. She was shaking in her whole body now as she watched the broken man sitting in opposite of her. "But I changed my mind. I realized Batman was your life and I couldn't wait for you. I couldn't put myself on hold... so I wrote a note, explaining it all for you and I don't think you've read it."

"No, I haven't."

She sighed. "Alfred, dear Alfred. He's a romantic fool, I figure? Hopping that when I turned up, everything would go back to normal. Or just too old to sneak notes like a school boy?"

Bruce fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.

"I understand if you want to leave."

"_Understand!"_ He echoed and shook his head. "What the hell was all this for you?" He asked, referring to the night. "A good meaningless time?"

"I didn't force you, _you_ even broke into _my_ apartment."

"And I didn't force _you_ either!" He threw his hands in the air. "I don't know about you but to me it feels like hell being the second choice... _yeah, the other guy died so I might as well go screw my backup plan._" The comment he dropped was filled with iciness.

She stared back into his eyes. Rachel hadn't realized it was so serious to him, she felt horrible.

He looked away. "I'm sorry, that was not-"

"No, I should apologize. It's my fault, I led you to believe- I did a horrible thing to you."

"I should go." He got up.

**A/N: Hello there, readers! Thanks for taking your time. Virtual cookies to everyone!**


	8. Chapter 8

The technician stormed into the bullpen. "I've got one of the companies on the phone, they've tracked the virus."

"Perfect!" Ben beamed.

"It's not that perfect, yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because the virus is sort of only in the system when Terence William's cell is online, when he makes a call. We can't do anything unless his cell makes a call."

"And we do not want it to get so far that some poor person have to make that phone call." Jacobs said. "We got to find this weirdo."

"I know. Pronto." Ben sighed. "We're not getting anywhere."

Rachel threw files on the table. "I've looked his name up. Nothing."

"Nothing?" Jacobs behaved a bit stiff towards Rachel, since her sudden outburst.

"No, I found no Terence Williams in the records looking like him."

Ben sighed again. "I've got the report from the CSI team back. They found no DNA except for Sarah's. They've never seen a place as clean as it! It was complete empty of traces of a human being living there. Fucking sanitarian!"

"We talked about it, you remember?" Jacobs turned to Ben. "The only way to leave no DNA behind is to wrap yourself in plastic, remove your fingerprints and shave yourself."

"Yeah, I remember, shave everything, eyebrows, even picking your own eyelashes etc."

"Do you think it's possible he's been following the guide? Sarah even said his head was shaved."

"But the fact that he doesn't appear in registers? This man is experienced."

"It could also mean he's been staying in roughly the same location his whole life, since he probably doesn't have a license or passport."

Ben flipped through the files. "You said he was tall, right, Dawes."

Rachel nodded. "Although, his hair was not shaved when he held me captivated. So he have changed his appearance a bit."

"There must be DNA from him somewhere! I want the CSI team to search the whole damn neighborhood, bins and everything! And people should know about him, a fucking giant dressed in plastic clothes. We should go knocking on doors." Ben said.

Rachel pulled out the note. "He left me this. I found it in my apartment. I'm going to send it to the lab, I hope we will find something on it."

"_I will never forget you_." Sounds like you made an impact on him." Jacobs whistled. "Besides, I've thought about it, Sarah looks roughly like you Dawes, brown hair, Caucasian, educated and so on. She fits your profile. He never forgot you."

"No, he did not."

**:::**

"Hello, my name's Rachel Dawes I'm participating in the investigation regarding the murder of Sarah Johanson." She held up an identikit picture. "He's very tall and-"

"No, I 'aint never seen him before."

"Thank you for your time."

"Hey! Wait, Missy, can you take the trash out, would 'ya?

**:::**

"Hello, my name's Rachel Dawes I'm participating in the investigation regarding the murder of Sarah Johanson." The identikit picture once again.

"Are you the lady from the news?"

"What lady?"

"The one in a coma."

"Yeah, that's me."

"Can you ask Bruce Wayne to send me money?"

"No."

"Meh, it was worth a shoot."

"Do you recognize the man on the picture?"

"No, never seen the dude before."

**:::**

Ben snorted. "We've got 60 policemen including us 15 to knock on 19 000 doors in Gotham. We need resources. We need a reward for the clue that leads to an arrest!"

Jacobs tilted her head. "Money we don't have, since the corruption is back in town."

"I know that, I think about the Gotham fund raising party on Saturday. What do you say, Jacobs, should we poke the rich in town with a stick and hope money comes flying down the sky?"

"Ask Dawes if she can shook some money out of Wayne."

Jacobs started laughing. "She would never do that. Besides I don't think she has _that_ kind of power over him!"

"I'm serious, have you read the papers lately? There are a lot of blurry pictures of them together and the papers are ready to wed them and name their first born."

"You do it then."

"Fine. Hey Dawes!"

"What?" She appeared in the bullpen with an annoyed look on her face.

"What do you say about pushing Wayne to donate money for a tip reward now on Saturday?"

"I would say; Do it yourself!"

"Come on, turn on your female charm and lure a couple of thousands off him."

"I don't work like that. But you seem like the expert to me, why don't you turn on your male charm and lure the money off him?" She said using his earlier phrase, indicating she had heard the conversation.

"The papers-"

"There are a lot of untrue articles in the papers nowadays." Rachel stalked back to her office.

Jacobs turned to Smith with a smirk. "I told you so."

**:::**

"Miss Dawes, I'm afraid I have to tell you that you didn't succeed the expectations I had for you."

"I'm sad to hear that, Mr Garcia."

"Please call me Anthony."

"Right Anthony."

"You see I gave you the position as DA because I knew you would be very important for Gotham. Your image is perfect! That's why I pulled a few strings, heck, you are not even supposed to participate in an investigation where you have personal connections. But I believe you can do this, please don't make me regret my decision."

"We're going to catch him."

"That's great to hear. We don't want anymore _incidents,_ miss Dawes."

"Of course not."

Anthony's face lit up in his usual award winning Mayor-smile. "Enjoy the evening and excuse me."

Rachel turned around and stumbled into a friend from College. The fund raising party was filled with politicians, lawyers, journalist, rich people and anyone who could afford to buy the expensive ticket to have a hob-nob with the economical elite.

"This is only intermutual admiration! Ha!" Her college friend, Lizzy, said. "Just look at them with all their money!"

"Lizzy, how many drinks have you had?"

"Too many! Ha! I'm happy I'm a normal person with both of my feet on the ground." The blonde woman leaned in and whispered. "Do you think they wipe their asses with money?"

"Go and sober up, Lizzy." Rachel rolled her eyes. "Besides, who are you wearing tonight?" She added with a sneer.

"Dior, what else?"

"Don't you think it's a little bit too hypocritical to be wearing an expensive brand and at the same time bash the rich?"

"You are- You are- You're completely right, Rachel, I'm going to wrap myself in eco friendly newspapers and throw myself in front of their expensive Ferraris!"

"Not tonight I hope."

"No, not tonight. I'm going to get drunk!"

"You are already drunk."

"Yeah, you're right on that point too."

"Should I try to get your boyfriend over here?"

"That would be lovely."

"Stay here."

**:::**

Another person had also got himself a bit too drunk on the party. Bruce had arrived, as usual with a grand entry, by a white helicopter. Rachel had hid herself in the mass of people. He had gone straight to the bar.

"Give me a scotch... leave the bottle here." He told the barman. "I deserve some fun before the dragons are coming after me for money." Bruce added with a bitter tone. "I've already signed the damn check, since I'm going to be so drunk I'm not going to be able to hold a pen later this evening."

"Everything for you. Mr Wayne."

He sipped on the alcohol. "Good scotch."

_First glass was emptied._

The barman nodded. "Good year, 1983."

_The second glass was emptied._

"Yeah, the 80's were great." Bruce sighed and looked out in the great room. "Just look at them! They're either so called elite or just trying to mimicking the elite... oh look, even more perfect, the most corruptive people in Gotham!"

"Sir, if I were you, I would lower my tone." The barman suggested.

_Third glass._

"Don't tell me what to do!" Bruce slurred. "You see the brunette there? Do you recognize her?"

"Miss Rachel Dawes, the DA of Gotham?"

_Fourth glass._

"No, the other one, to her left!"

"There's a blonde woman to her left, sir."

"No, I mean my left!"

"Your left is my left, sir." The barman rolled his eyes.

_Fifth glass._

"Why do you make it so hard, I mean that brunette! She the one who left...ha! You get it, she who left who was standing to the left!" Bruce waved in the air with his hand. "I don't know where she is now."

The barman cleaned a glass. He concentrated really hard on that simple task, it wasn't until Bruce's alcoholic breath found it's way into his nose, he looked up again.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Bruce asked with a smile. "No one knows this but I am- I am Batman!" He giggled. "I really am!"

The barman removed the scotch; "You've had enough for this evening!"

**:::**

Arms snaked around her waist. "Hello there!"

Rachel jumped. "Bruce?"

"The one and only!" He whispered into her ear.

"What are you-?"

He fumbled with the check in his pocket. "You see, honey, I know exactly what you and your cop friends are up to. This whole thing is all about money! Fund raising, huh?"

Rachel felt extremely uncomfortable. "Bruce, would you be kind and stop?" Her eyes scanned the surroundings.

"Why, sweetheart? We're getting to the fun part." He pushed the check into her hand. "Enjoy yourself."

"I'm sorry, I'm not taking a check. It's not right, you're drunk and you don't know what you're doing."

"You're so full of morals, you've always been."

She gave the check back. "Go home. For your own sake." She begged him.

"You know I can't resist when you're looking-"

Their conversation was interrupted. "Well well, what do we have here? Gotham's most fashionable couple!" A woman squealed. She offered her hand. "My name's Christina Spencer. I'm the editor at _Click!_"

"Pleasure to meet you." Bruce offered his hand, with a bit of a struggle since he tried to maintain his right arm around Rachel's waist.

"So in love! You can't keep your hands of each others!" Christina licked her lips, she had a story on the way. "For how long?"

Rachel gulped and tried to save the situation. "We're not-"

"Of course we are!" Bruce bit back and stroked her hair. "She's a bit shy, Christina, may I call you Christina?"

"Of course you may." She smiled and her nostrils widened. "I'm sure you've read the papers lately. People are wondering, they're curious about the two of you. I imagine it would be so much better if you could give the whole story yourselves, instead of all these ridiculously articles speculating about you."

"I agree to full extent!"

"Perfect!" Christina looked like she had got all her wishes confirmed, which she had. "Why don't the two of you give me the whole story? The people in Gotham wants to know your story, especially yours Miss Dawes, how you dealt with the coma. It must have been a tragedy!"

"The whole story? Well with the fact that I was her second-"

"For all the-, would you shut up?" Rachel snapped. "Do forgive me, Miss Spencer, but he's drunk and has no idea of what he's saying."

"You're going to cover it up as well?" Bruce slurred and pointed accusingly at her with his index finger.

"I'm not!"

Another man joined the group, as if he sensed something bad was bound to happen. "Is something the matter?" A British voice asked.

Rachel turned to the new guest in the conversation. "Thank you! Alfred! Bruce is not feeling well."

"I see."

She leaned in and whispered into Alfred's ear. "He's been talking too much to the editor of _Click!_"

The editor, Christina smiled business-like. "Hi. My name's Christina Spencer, I'm the editor at _Click! _and I've just had a fascinating conversation with Mr Wayne and his lovely Miss Dawes." Christina stretched out her hand towards Alfred.

"I'm not _his_." Rachel objected.

"Not officially..." Bruce added with a smirk, "... yet." He blinked clumsily and Christina Spencer could hardly contain herself from squealing.

"Would you keep your mouth shut, Bruce?"

"Miss Dawes!" Alfred warned and turned to Christina. "You will find a check on your desk by tomorrow with a generous amount, in exchange you will not breathe a word of this." He smiled warmly.

"I can't be bought!" Christina said.

"You're making a vague on people's personal lives." Alfred replied.

That comment sure made Christina loose her face.

**:::**

"Hello, Jacobs, you look nice tonight." Rachel chimed.

The usually stiff and shabby dressed investigator, Jacobs, was dressed in a simple black dress and a sour face. "We've got something you might want to take a look at. I hope you're not enjoying yourself too much, because this will ruin your appetite."

"Like what?"

"You got to see for yourself." She made a face and started to wade through the crowd with Rachel behind.

"Listen Jacobs, I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier." Rachel said with a delicate voice.

"Don't worry, it comes with the job."

They went through a door and stalked down a long corridor. "The hotel staff found her, on the street in front of the hotel."

"On the street?"

"She appears to have been thrown out of a car."

"Poor thing."

"Yeah, at least she wasn't alive when she was thrown out of the car. We've got footage but it doesn't seem to lead us anywhere. Just a dark car without a license plate. The fact that the footage is shit doesn't make it better." They've came to the end of corridor. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Rachel nodded with a determined look on her face.

Inside the room was an ordinary bench. That was just about it, except for the black plastic bag.

"Is she?"

"Yeah." Ben Smith emerged from the shadows, he looked like he hadn't slept for the last week. His tie was distressed and his suit looked like it had seen better days. "She's all chopped up. Awful sight."

"Is it really that bad?"

Ben nodded. "We need to get this Terence behind bars!"

"How do we know this is connected with Terence?" Rachel asked with an increasing feeling of worry. The mayor's words lingered in her mind.

"He's written your name across the poor girl's forehead." Ben said.

The plastic bag was unzipped.

The limbs were almost cut off. The name 'Rachel' had been carved into the forehead with a sharp object. The worst part was the look of sheer horror on her face, her last scream had been frozen in her features.

"No one deserves this."

"Does the public know?"

Ben snorted. "Judging by the enormous pool of blood on the street, they probably already know."


End file.
